


Bonds Are More than Ties

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Car Accidents, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in the future, and even when you're the new President of the Federation and have an excellent relationship with your Significant Other, you are still subject to the vagaries of fate.</p><p>In other words, President Blake and Avon get hit by an air-lorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonds Are More than Ties

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to answer a question in B7 fandom.

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Avon was amiably arguing with Blake about the latest constitutional reform Blake had pushed through the legislature despite vehement objections from the opposition. Later he couldn't remember exactly why he disagreed with Blake, but he had a vivid recollection of Blake's grin and his finger tapping at his lips as he rebutted Avon's points one by one. 

The chauffeur shouted something, and Avon glanced from the back seat of the President's limo past the woman and saw the oncoming air-lorry. Instinctively he threw himself in front of Blake. Then the world turned upside down in a sickening, deafening, Catherine-wheeling, display.

***

Avon was struggling and hands were holding him down. "Stop it!" Registering the voice as one of the few he trusted, even though he couldn't immediately put a face to it, Avon obeyed. 

"I feel sick," he muttered as he was lowered back to a horizontal position. "Blake? Blake!" This time he fought to full consciousness, and found himself staring into Tarrant's face. A small portion of his mind noted that he was in hospital- impossible to ignore that cold, antiseptic atmosphere, even if he wasn't in a narrow bed with metal railings instead of the antique cherry-wood monstrosity he shared with Blake- and if his whole body didn't ache, with occasional twinges of fire in various places.

"He's alive," Tarrant said, but from his expression, that wasn't saying much.

Avon tried to get up and whacked himself on the chin with the cast on his left arm. After the shock wore off, he looked past Tarrant and saw the rest of _his_ people. "Why isn't one of you with Blake!"

"They won't let us," Vila said, standing behind Tarrant and looking miserable. "And before you ask, they won't let you either. Doctor Relford..."

Avon's lips tightened. Doctor Relford had saved Blake's life on Gauda Prime. Blake had understood and forgiven Avon's actions (after an epic row that had half the base in the medical unit holding them apart) but Relford still hated Avon, hated and resented him for his place in Blake's affections. Everyone knew it except Blake, who had insisted on giving the man the title of 'Presidential Physician'. "Doctor Relford is in charge. Well, he'll let _me_ in." Avon's right arm worked fairly well, and he used it to flip back the thin sheet and stare down at the casts on both legs coming up past the knees. "As soon as I find a mobile chair," he decided, giving Tarrant a silent order.

"No, he won't," Soolin said firmly. She came up and stood beside the bed, gazing down at Avon with an expression he couldn't quite read. "He has Blake surrounded by guards. According to him you are only 'the President's paramour'," she said finally, " and have no rights at all". 

Dayna leapt up to protest, but Avon closed his eyes briefly, nodded, and said, "True. Is he at least consulting Orac?"

Vila shook his head. "We tried, but he won't allow it."

Avon's eyes narrowed. "Get Orac. Get Blake's medical records."

No one stopped to argue. Five minutes later, they were back in Avon's room. Vila was grinning. "Just like old times, Dayna and Tarrant distracted, Soolin played lookout, and yours truly..." Vila paused to polish his fingernails on his chest."...delivered the goods."

Avon ignored him, being busy hooking Orac up one-handed to the medical data-chip. "Process that data, Orac, and tell us if Blake is receiving the optimal medical care possible."

Being a very clever computer, and apparently recognizing the strain in Avon's voice, Orac complied without its usual display of reluctance. "No," Orac replied after a few second's pause. "Blake should have immediate surgery. Relford (Orac disliked the doctor and never gave him his title) has instead scheduled a drug regime, which will not be sufficient."

The room went silent as they all considered the implications of life without Blake. All except for Avon, he had long since made up his mind that event would never occur. Avon drummed his workable fingers on Orac's case for a moment, eyes gone distant, then he said, "Find the most capable surgeons who are close enough to save Blake. Access my account number 1590777 and pay them double whatever they ask to operate on Blake."

"Relford will never allow it," Tarrant said. 

"I wasn't finished," Avon said mildly. "At the same time, Orac, you will announce to all the news-media that Doctor Relford has called in highly respected colleagues in his valiant efforts to save our beloved President. And you will send Relford a private message- if he refuses to allow the surgeons to operate, I will personally see to it that his 'secret files' of the experiments he carried out on Federation prisoners on Gauda Prime will be publicized." Avon settled back, breathing heavily. "I think that ought to do it, what do you say?"

"But Relford didn't carry out any experiments," Vila said, bewildered. 

"Orac, be sure to append copies of the 'secret files' we prepared last year to Relford's private message." Avon smiled. "Contingency planning."

***

Avon sighed with relief, scratching vigorously at both legs at once before pulling on the tight black leather trousers that had just been delivered to his hospital room.

"The casts should have stayed on another week," Tarrant commented mildly.

"If you think I'm staying here another week, you're as stupid as Relford," Avon replied, picking up the white silk shirt out of the tissue paper in the delivery box and beginning to ease it on over his left arm, which still felt tender. "Why don't you make yourself useful and see how Blake's getting on."

"What, bad luck for him to see you in your..." Tarrant mock-ducked Avon's glare and grinned. "All right, I'm going."

Pulling on the half-boots, Avon momentarily regretted sending Tarrant away. The black leather jacket was no problem and putting in the white gardenia in the boutonniere was simplicity itself, but it took him a few minutes to work out the archaic intricacies of the black satin bow-tie.

***

Blake was in white suede, with a black silk shirt, looking a bit thin, but quite, quite satisfactory to Avon's eyes. The black gardenia had taken a bit of bribery in a gene-splicing lab. Avon had an exclusive on the bio-patent and when other couples sought to duplicate the 'royal wedding' he ought to make a bit of profit on the deal.

Even if he lost money, Avon thought it was well worth it as he slipped a platinum and onyx ring onto Blake's finger, and accepted the matching one on his own hand. _Nobody_ was ever again going to tell him he didn't have the right to be at Blake's side.

**Author's Note:**

> (Oh, the question was obviously _why_ would Avon  & Blake get married.)


End file.
